


my song says it all, do you hear it in the verse

by nebulyx (strikereurekapitcrew)



Series: Shrike [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Fantastic Racism, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Revali appears at the end, Sexual Fantasy, Underage Masturbation, What Even Are Rito?, Wind Waker Rito Revali, canon-typical angst, mention of the other Champions, post-coital dysphoria, unbeta'd we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikereurekapitcrew/pseuds/nebulyx
Summary: So many thought her infatuated with the Hylian Champion, her Knight, but if only they knew that no, when her heart drifted, it was cerulean on navy blue that came to mind.





	my song says it all, do you hear it in the verse

**Author's Note:**

> I marked my love-songs were always the mourning kind as finished because I am trying to just write the little moments that come to mind. This is marked as underaged because it happens hours before Zelda turning 17 -thus being an adult by the context of Breath of the Wild's literature-. There are definitely some puritanical leanings in parts of this, but given Zelda is raised being forced to be pious and nothing else... yeah. Suits. Anyway. No betas, we die like men. Enjoy.

Staring at the top of her four-poster, Zelda’s pretty face curls into a dark scowl. 

Anxiety has made it impossible for her to sleep and be well rested for the journey ahead of her. She is tired of trying to wake up this stupid power, convinced of her father’s words: she is the heir to a throne of nothing. Mount Lanayru is her last chance and if she fails, then she has failed as a princess and a commander.

Her thoughts drift to the Champions, her hand falling absently to her stomach. 

They would all have their different reactions, most telling her to try other things. 

Not the Rito. 

Revali looks at her with a quiet pain these days. Before her mother died, when he was still an awkward fledgling and she was allowed to be a child, he held her hand, looked at her like she was Hyrule’s greatest treasure. He had nuzzled her hair and told her that he would become the best, so that he could fight for her when she was Queen. It had been a sweet thought, a childhood love’s oath, and then her mother died and it wasn’t until her father’s mad belief in a fortune teller’s prophecy that she got to see him again. She had carried him in her heart for so long. It hurt to see who he had become. She realizes that’s probably why he looks at her the way that he does, not out of pity, but of the same feeling she feels for him, the wish to have just... been there. 

She wishes they could go back to traveling. Link and Revali were a bit more friendly, Link spoke to her. When nobody looked, Revali would sometimes brush feathers over her fingers - he always wore a full Rito form now, no longer the too-Hylian Sea Rito of their youth, the Rito that he was instead of the Rito he chose to let people see. 

The phantom feeling of his feathers on her skin sparks a low fire in her belly, a craving for more. Every time he touches her, it felt like he is trying to light a fire inside of her, and she wonders if he noticed. Urbosa has, but didn’t say anything about it with more than expressive eyebrows. That made Zelda very grateful, anxious as she was for the approval of the only mother she had left when she failed everywhere else. 

Her fingers drift lower, toward the hem of her nightgown. 

She is a Lady, a  _ Princess _ . If her teachers or the Priests of Light knew that she, failing High Priestess of Hylia, was giving into the desires of the flesh, she would be berated about keeping her virtue in every way she could. She might even be slapped. 

Somehow, that was thrilling. It makes her want to laugh. After all, Hylia had fallen for selfish reasons, both the Triforce and the First Hero. This was… time honored tradition, giving into the desires of the flesh. She is, after all, only human, and an adolescent one at that. 

She sits up enough to toss the nightgown aside, lowering herself back to luxurious pillows and sheets. 

Zelda's imagination is vibrant and active, her thoughts full of  _ him.  _ So many thought her infatuated with the Hylian Champion, her Knight, but if only they knew that no, when her heart drifted, it was cerulean on navy blue that came to mind. 

For all they prided themselves on unity, the Hylians would not accept that their crown princess loved a Rito. 

Oh,  _ love. _

The thought made her skin burn under her hands, goosebumpbs rolling after their touch in gentle waves as she explored her own body. Would he think her foolish, loving him?

Too late, she tries to turn her mind from the thought of him. The seed of the thought takes hold of her.

He is not a Zora, of course, does not trip over layers of propriety worse than the most zealous of Hylian lords and ladies. He looks at her with a hunger sometimes when he thinks she isn’t looking. Or, perhaps, he knows that she’s looking. 

The skin under her hesitant fingertips is slick and hot, her face flushing with the embarrassment of it all. It isn’t the first time she had explored her body, but the first she’d been so… excited, so quickly.

It’s because of her thoughts of Revali, and she knows it. Her fingers become a little more steady, a shuddering sigh leaving her lips.

There’s a thrill in the thread of fantasy that she’s found, green eyes drifting closed as she allows herself this moment.

She can see the Rito alighting on the walk between her laboratory and bedroom, waiting like a Sheikah in the shadows outside her window, watching like she’s his prey. Though she knows that if he was really there, was really watching her, she would recoil at the thought of being caught, she is brazen in her fantasies until she sees his silhouette there.

_ Don’t stop on my account _ , the shade of the Rito insists as he steps fully into the room. In the vision in her mind, he’s dropped the Mountain Rito glamour, his appearance the almost Hylian features she remembers from their youth.

There is the frustration, then, that he watches and doesn’t join her. But she is a Princess, and he is only a Champion, and though he is irreverent, even for a Rito, there are boundaries that he adheres to.

But it is  _ her _ fantasy, and rules be damned.

_ Need some help, Princess? _ He asks her, emphasis on the latter syllable to rile her up, though he doesn’t need her answer. His hand joins hers, and in reality, hers move faster. The friction is not enough, Zelda rolling over to her stomach and bunching part of the sheet between her thighs. That changes the image in her mind, the warmth and weight of armor and feathers pressed to the flushed, damp skin of her bare back. For as much of a know-it-all as he likes to call her, she does not know much about Rito physiology, but something about the thought of their bodies not being meant for each other, but working together all the same pushes her further. She presses her mouth to the back of her free hand, biting to stifle the sounds she threatens to make, sounds she hopes he would preen to hear, rolling her hips roughly, and  _ yes _ , there it is.  _ There it is. _

Her fantasy Champion, her childhood hero, gives her what she needs, whispering praises into her skin that wind her higher and higher, a crescendo toward climax.

Gods, she loves him.

Her heat aches, throbbing with the same need as the rest of her.

Zelda gasps, teeth loosing the back of her hand as finally,  _ finally _ , she arrives.

Midnight strikes as the Princess of Hyrule writhes in ecstasy, biting a fistful of her sheets to stifle the sound of the name that leaves her lips. In the rush of her pulse pounding in her ears, she swears that she hears wings and lets herself think that it was a nightbird she disturbed with her activities.

Her comedown is fast. She feels dirty, untangling herself from the soiled sheets. It is equal parts the orgasm, the fantasy, and the knowledge of what tomorrow brings that makes her feel this way. On shaking limbs like a baby forest creature, she goes into her washroom, finds the water left for her by her handmaids, and begins to clean herself. She scrubs her hands and thighs until the milky skin is an abused flush, smelling of sweet lemons and lavender and  _ sin. _

She does not look in the mirror as she dresses herself in her travel clothing, does not think as she folds her ceremonial dress and carefully packs it in a small bag. Link is not outside of her door this evening, as she pleaded with him to actually get some rest, so she takes the silent side-passages until she reaches his humble quarters. As if he heard her approach, the door opens before she has the chance to knock.

“Please ready the horses,” she says. “I’d like to get going as swiftly as possible.”

_ I’d like to get this over with. _

If Revali knows anything, he gives no indication of it, greeting her with a polite nod when Link and Zelda join the rest of the Champions. He is careful not to be too close to her on the journey, careful not to let his feathers brush her skin.

She knows he means well, does not want her to be distracted probably, but she cannot help but feel like the climb up Mount Lanayru is her gallows walk.


End file.
